Free Unknown by Mari Jungstedt Page A

promontory.
    In front of the youth hostel was a neatly mown lawn with some garden furniture, a small parking lot, and an area with juniper shrubs nearly six feet high that grew in a labyrinth before giving way to tall reeds and the water. Behind the hostel was a wooden footbridge that extended three hundred yards out over the water and led to the harbor and the road to the town of Klintehamn.
    At this time of day it was tranquil and quiet.
    The guests had sat outside for a long time, enjoying the warm night, but now they had all gone off to bed. Outdoor lamps lit up the building. Not that it was needed—the nights at this time of year were very bright. It never really got completely dark.
    The hallway on the ground floor was deserted. The doors to the rooms had been decorated with hand-painted signs: grötlingbo, hablingbo, havdhem. Each of them had been named for a parish on Gotland. The doors were closed, and not a sound penetrated through the solid walls.
    Martina Flochten was sweating on her bed. She wore only a pair of panties. She had pulled the duvet out of its cover and tossed it aside. The window was wide open, but it made little difference. Eva seemed to be sleeping soundly on the other side of the room.
    Something had made Martina wake up. Maybe it was the heat. She lay motionless, listening to her friend's steady breathing. If only she could sleep like that. Martina was thirsty and had to pee. Finally she gave up trying to go back to sleep. With a sigh she got out of bed, pulled a T-shirt over her head, and looked out the window. A dark haze covered the foliage on the trees, the lawn, and the reeds farther away at the edge of the water. The sun had sunk below the horizon, but the light was still holding on.
    Silence reigned. Not even a seagull could be heard at this late hour. A glance at the digital clock on the table told her that it was ten minutes past two.
    Martina went to use the bathroom that was halfway down the hall and then padded up the narrow spiral staircase to the kitchen and got herself a glass of water. She opened the freezer and took out a few ice cubes, dropping them into her glass with a discreet plop. She opened all the windows and left them ajar, to let in the warm night air. She had a hard time imagining that she was so far north.
    In one hand she held the glass of water and in the other a cigarette that she stole from a pack on the kitchen counter. She went outside and sat down on the creaky wooden steps.
    The lush, overgrown summer greenery was beautiful in the glow of the night. She had really come to love Gotland.
    Martina's mother had left the island at the age of eighteen to work as a nanny for a family in Rotterdam. She had planned to stay in the Netherlands for a year, but then she met Martina's father, who was studying to be an architect. They got married, and it didn't take long before Martina and her brother were born.
    The family had come to Gotland every year on vacation. They would stay with Martina's maternal grandparents in Hemse or at a hotel in the city. Her grandparents had passed away long ago, and her mother had died in a car crash when Martina was eighteen, but the rest of the family still came to Gotland every year.
    Now she was more in love than she had ever been before. A month ago she didn't even know he existed, but now she felt that he was the very breath of life for her.
    A rustling in the grove of trees next to the youth hostel interrupted her thoughts. She lowered the hand holding the cigarette and looked in that direction. Not a sound. Probably a hedgehog. They always came out at night. Then she heard a twig snap. Was someone there? Her eyes swept over the expanse of lawn in front of the house, the tables and benches, the playground, the clothesline with a solitary blue-and-white-striped bath towel hanging from it, and the juniper bushes that stood like lonely soldiers on parade. Suddenly the silence seemed menacing.
    She put out her cigarette and remained